Redemption
by Robespierre Cincinnati
Summary: It's a Let's Play of Red Dead Redemption, told in the form of a novelization of the game. This story will retell the story of John and Jack Marston, filling in plot holes and explaining such things as Outfits and Frontiersman Challenges.


I watched the harbor, trying to forget why I was being brought here.

I grew a small smile as I stepped onto the pier. It felt like it had been a long time since I had last seen Blackwater. I watched a crane drop a motorcar into place. Times were changing fast.

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" called a scrawny boy, making the mistake of walking towards us. Ross gave him a shove. "Hey, watch it mister!"

Smug bastard. Ross was just as mean-spirited as he was the day I first met him.

The boy continued to shout his message. "Bill Williamson's gang terrorizes New Austin!"

I stared ahead, continuing to walk, Ross to my left and Fordham to my right. Fordham, unsurprisingly, was ogling a lady as she passed by. Ross put his arm on my shoulder. I quickly swatted it away. You're not touching me, you whore. I stepped onto the train, looking at them as I passed by. Fordham waved me goodbye, and I stepped in.

I was uninterested in the countryside, I had it seen it many times before. It did give me pangs of nostalgia, reminding me of my farm just beyond the hills. Abigail and Jack, and the house...

"Well I for one, am grateful, Misses Bush, that they are finally bringing civilization to this savage land." The voice tore me out of my fantasy.

"I could not agree with you more, my dear," said another one. "My daddy settled this land and I know he will be looking down at us, pleased at how we have helped the natives."

It was two women, an elderly one with white hair and an elderly one with gray hair and a Southern accent. I'm not one to butt into other people's conversations, but they had gotten my attention. One kind of person that annoys me more than anything else is those Manifest Destiny, Bible-thumping types.

"Yes, they've lost their land, but they've gained access to Heaven."

By now, we were in New Austin. It was right across the border from West Elizabeth, but I had never had reason to venture into those parts, what with trying to keep my family from starving. This area was sparsely forested, with tall reeds everywhere. I was starting to enjoy myself when the couple in front of me, a young brunette woman and her older preacher, spoke up.

"But Father, do you mean unless an innocent receives communion, they're destined to go to Hell?"

"Uh..."  
>"It hardly seems fair."<p>

"Uh, what I mean to say, Jenny, is that there is a great deal of difference between an innocent and a savage."

"I never thought of it that way."

Pity now that you do. I never quite understood what the difference was between an Indian and a white man.

"Yes, they live like animals, but they're happier now," said the elderly woman.

The train went through a dark tunnel, cutting through the base of a mountain.

"Not only do people now have motorcars, Father, but I heard that pretty soon, we will be able to fly."

"No, only angels can fly, Jenny."

"No, no, apparently people can fly. Didn't you hear? Out in Kansas, a man even got a car to fly!"

The preacher chuckled. "I hardly think so, Jenny."

Well, there's the Catholic Church for you.

We were now cutting through the desert. I could see the plateau we had come off of off in the distance. This land had cacti everywhere, and rocks jutting up. It was quite a difference from West Elizabeth.

Misses Bush started up again, this time with politics.

"Apparently, Mister Johns wants to run for governor, which is why he's so concerned with cleanin' up the state."

"Nate Johns," the other one said with amusement.

"Yes."

"His family is nothing but hillbilly trash that came here after the war. I don't want to be judgmental, but this state should not be ruled by such a disgusting family. A family without class."

I'm sure she had plenty of class, probably a couple of those "niggers" or "beaners" to do the work for her family while they carried on with their petty intrigues.

"Apparently, the Johns family made a lot of money, and he has a lot of friends in politics."

"Misses Bush, money isn't everything. There are many things money cannot buy."

"It seems that money can buy voters, though."

Well, yeah. That's what advertising is for.

"What you must remember, my dear, is that we have been brought here to spread the word. And the word and civilization, they are the same thing. They are the gifts. It is the opportunity we have, to live among people who are decent, and who do not kill each other. And who let you worship in peace."

Worship anything in peace, or specifically God? I don't think he was thinking about trees when he said that.

"Uh... it's so confusing, Father. Sometimes, I find it impossible to make the distinction between a loving act and a hateful one. I mean, they often seem to be the same thing."

"Yes, Jenny, it is confusing. But you only have to ask me if you need help."

"Well, here we are, Misses Bush. Armadillo."

With a toot of the horn, we started to rise from our seats. I stepped off, walking through the small wooden depot and into the street. It was a small town, only a handful of businesses, built in the T-style. The saloon was right in front of me. There was the usual: a couple of men drinking and having a good time outside and the local preacher trying, to no avail, to get them to stop.

"Ugh, I feel sick..." groaned a man in overall stepping outside. He fell as he took his last step down the stairs.

I continued inside.

"Marston! Mister Marston! Over here!"

Off near the piano sat the man who was calling me. A prostitute was bent over, caressing him.

"You must be Mister Marston."

"Sometimes." He was old, with a scruffy white beard, a green coat, and a hat that I was pretty sure was used for moonshining. _I hope that poor girl gets paid good_.

"I'm Jake. You're friend from Blackwater hired me to guide you."

"They ain't my friends, but pleased to meet you, Jake."

"I got the horses saddled up and ready out front." He sauntered towards the door, and I followed him.

He clambered onto a dark brown horse, leading me with a painted mare. "Alrighty Mister Marston, let's get."

I got on my own horse. "Easy on the spurs now, we don't need to draw no undue attention."

The train, Red Frontier's _Spirit of America_, was still lying on the tracks when we rode up to it. We waited for a brief few seconds, and then it continued on it's way.

"So it's Fort Mercer you want to visit?"  
>"I guess so."<br>"Ain't taken nobody up to the fort in a _long _time. Strange place for a decent fellow to visit, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"Who said I was a decent fella?"

"It's been abandoned for years now. Folks say it was built durin' the Mexican War. All kinds of soldiers around back then."  
>"Why'd they leave?"<p>

"Well, I ain't entirely sure... I heard they had to go up North to fight Indians, or got tired of bein' soldiers and went lookin' for gold... you know how things is. So what're you doin' up at the fort?"

"I'm lookin' for an old friend."

"Well, like I says, you ain't gonna find many folks around those parts these days. Those you do are about as sociable as an ulcerated back tooth!" He gave a raspy, dry laugh. "I mean, I ain't one to judge a man by the company he keeps, but..."

"Well, he ain't been friends for a _long _time."

"Are you plannin' on spendin' any time in Armadillo, Mister Marston?"  
>"I doubt it. I ain't plannin' on stayin' very long."<p>

"Well, if you're fixin' for some _female _company, you can do a lot worse than Armadillo. Fine as cream gravy, they are. Not like Thieves' Landin'. Dang, those girls ain't fit for a drinkin' man to hole up with."

I knew about Thieves' Landing, it was right on the border of New Austin and West Elizabeth. I hadn't been there much, but that was because I knew about their reputation. A married man such as myself didn't need to going out to there.

"I'm a married man, I'm afraid."

"Ain't we all?" He gave another weak but true laugh.

We'd reached a path up another plateau, apparently one Fort Mercer sat on. I was wishing I had bothered to buy maps of the region, or at least have made trips to there. Back on our little farm, I only ever needed to go to Manzanita Post and Blackwater to buy and sell goods. I was comfortable in those two counties. It was strange that I was so ignorant of our backdoor.

"Yeah, so it was the marshal who hired me. Leigh Johnson, do you know him?"

"I think I heard his name."

"He said he got a telegram from some Blackwater big bugs asking for a guide. I guess it's none of my business."

"That's right."

We continued riding on. It was only a few seconds until he started up again, not that I minded.  
>"You ain't very talkative, are you?"<br>"Nope."  
>"I'm just chewin' the dog, mister, it's how I am. I don't mean nothin' by it."<p>

"Trust me, there's things better off you not knowin'." I was starting to get irritated, Jake trying to butt into my business.

A carcass was lying further up the road. It looked to be a cow.

"I tell you Mister Marston, those coyotes eat better than I do! Heh... not far now. You'll see the fort when you get to the top of this hill."

We came over the hill, and I looked down at it. The fort had bright yellow walls. It was nothing impressive, being rather small. There was a large blockish part to the left, and further back to the right there appeared to be some quarters. There were large wooden doors, and the road that circled around the fort had a small path leading up to it. A small wall used to lay along the road, but it was mostly gone by now. A few small shacks and such llittered the sides of the path.

"Listen Mister," Jake said, pointing his hand. "This here's what's left of Fort Mercer. Some gang rode in and took the place over."

"So I understand." He had been joking and happy all of the trip, and now he was speaking harshly.

"This is where we part ways friend. You have yourself a _good time_." He rode off, laughing and leaving me to wonder why he had.

I rode up to the wall and dismounted. Nobody was in sight.  
>"Bill!" Nobody emerged. "Bill, I've come for ya!" Nothing. "Bill Williamson, come out here right now!"<br>There was a pause, and then I heard him, for the first time in years. "Go away now, John. Don't make me kill you."  
>"Nobody needs to kill anyone, Bill."<p>

He swung around one of sides of the arch that decorated the wall. He was holding a rifle. "You must think I was born yesterday. You always did think I was a _idiot_."  
>"That ain't fair, Bill. You were as my brother. I've come to try and save you."<p>

He gave one of those long, fake laughs as two more riflemen revealed themselves. "Do I look like I need saving?"

"Bill, please. They wanna kill us all. I can help you."

"You never tried to save me before. Y-You only seemed... to save yourself."  
><em>What?<em>

My voice started to break as I grew desperate. "Bill, I implore you, think about this."

He gave another half-laugh, half-giggle. "You implore me? You _implore _me? You always were one for fancy words. Oh. Well, things are different now, John. Now, **I'm in charge**! No more Dutch, and no more _you_." He glanced back at one of his goons. "Implore... I _implores you_ to go back and tell them to send someone just a little bit more impressive next time."

I sighed. "Well..." I put my hand on my holster.

Bill fired, and the bullet tore through my chest. I dropped to the ground, and light started to fade, like the setting sun.


End file.
